Tonight I will board the Chinese bus back to New York City. I’ve done this trip about an estimated 534 times, but it doesn’t really get an easier. In fact, it’s been getting harder. I don’t know if it’s my old age, but the thought of getting on that bus grows increasingly more stressful as I remember the hours spent tossing and turning as I ride up the Eastern Shore and onto the Jersey Turnpike. Past trips I’ve been I have had a specific purpose it felt like, this time I don’t really know what I’ll be doing. In truth, I know what I’ll be doing. I’ll be taking care of my friend Amanda’s apartment and her two lovely cats, but the greater purpose? I don’t know anymore.
Certainly, I’m going to be applying to more jobs, but it’s beginning to seem more pointless especially since I’ve been sending out dozens applications with only a few responses. I’ve tried also go to places where I applied to so that I can talk to someone in person, but that hasn’t really helped yet either. It’s just so hard to stay motivated. And all these people say it will be okay, I will find something, but that seems fucking stupid. My natural tendency to dismiss whatever anyone recommends to me doesn’t help, I’ve always needed to find things on my own. In any event, with the job application process becoming seemingly more vain, I’m not sure where I should place my time in the big city. The possibilities are endless, but how to narrow, how to edit, how to choose? What do I do? The more time I spend pondering this question, the less time I’ll have following through on the answer. That’s the kicker. Yeah, I can be whatever I want to be, but who wants to be that?